Ten Years
by whatarushh
Summary: set after 2x08. Beckett reflects. “It was a stupid waitress job I had ten years ago. Do YOU remember what you were doing ten years ago?”


A/N: this is what i do at 2:30 in the morning instead of sleeping. well, not on a regular basis. just when a story is screaming at me to write it.

disclaimer: i don't own Castle, yada yada yada. :P

* * *

It had been a long day. The 12th precinct was all but empty, lit by the dim glow of several lamps. Kate Beckett sat on her desk, facing the empty murder board, the photos that had previously adorned it stacked in the box at her feet.

All photos but one.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers along the edge of Olivia Debiasse's picture, emotions swirling within her.

Ten years. It had been ten years.

"_It was a stupid waitress job I had ten years ago. Do YOU remember what you were doing ten years ago?"_

The woman had said it carelessly, not realizing how deep the seemingly innocent statement could cut a person. Yes, Kate knew what she was doing ten years ago; mourning the loss of her mother. Trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life.

A life that had been shattered just like that of Olivia's aunt. And Brady Thompson's wife. And Caleb Shemansky's sister.

Kate sighed, feeling the weight of her profession constricting her chest. She didn't want to think of the countless other people that had to hurt as she did, living every day knowing that a little part of themselves had been lost forever. A surge of hatred rose within her. How could anybody do something so base, so devastating to another human being?

The anger was replaced by a glimmer of pride, however, when she thought about her job. _I get rid of the bad people. I make the good people hurt less._

_So why do I still have to hurt?_

Ten years. It had been ten years.

She couldn't help but chuckle at the irony; Captain Montgomery had been one of the detectives that she hated. The ones that don't push, the ones that view a confession as the absolute end, despite the evidence suggesting otherwise. But when confronted with his mistake, she could visibly see his remorse, the guilt affecting his every action. Kate rolled her eyes in amusement; nobody could ever again accuse her of being too driven! But the captain's determination to right his wrong only increased her respect for him tenfold, as did his palpable happiness at being able to officially close the case. She smiled. She'd been a part in rectifying his mistake, bringing closure to three families.

Closure.

She sighed. That word was in her professional vocabulary on almost a biweekly basis. So why didn't that carry over into her personal life?

At least one person thought it should.

"_We have good leads, we have strong leads. And you won't have to do it alone. We can do it together."_

Kate closed her eyes briefly. Why wouldn't she let him help? He'd been right when he guessed that she was afraid. The fear of returning to her lowest point, the fear of not liking what they found, the fear of looking her mother's killer in the eye. But she had to be honest with herself; was that all? Fear?

No, that wasn't all. She wasn't sure she trusted the world enough to put herself out there again. Habit may've played a part as well; the unwillingness to break the status quo she'd managed to create for herself.

But most paralyzing was the worry about getting her hopes up, only to have them dashed again.

Ten years. It had been ten years.

She looked down at Olivia's photograph. The young woman smiled up at her, eternally unaware of her impending fate. Cases aren't closed after ten years. That's just not how things work. Except for this one anomaly…

Could lightning strike the same place twice?

"_Well, Crash was on this morning, followed by Footloose, so I guess anything can happen."_

Kate chuckled. _Oh Castle. You always have an answer for everything, don't you?_

She got off her desk and knelt beside the box on the floor, and carefully slid Olivia's photo into her file. She placed the lid on the box with a satisfying 'thunk,' and tread the familiar path to the file room, hefting the box neatly into its place. Leaving the room, she paused in the doorway for a moment, giving the newest closed case file a final glance before returning to her desk.

As she walked through the deserted precinct, she looked around at her familiar surroundings, feeling immeasurably more content than she had in recent memory.

Yes, answers would make it easier. In time.

FIN.


End file.
